Warm Iron & Sharp Blood
by Moonraker One
Summary: The evil known as Soul Edge has had many hosts, and seen much of history. It was only a matter of time before the sword's evil seed was left behind. . . a mortal woman's assault by a host of the sword leads to a problem Zasalamel never thought of.
1. Chapter 1

Warm Iron and Sharp Blood

by Moonraker One

PROLOGUE – British Empire, 1103 A.D.

"No, please, don't...I beg of you..."

Frenzied pleas from a struggling woman fell upon the uncaring ears of a monstrous beast. The only way to describe a man seeming in every way devoid of such pitiful emotions such as compassion, remorse, and love, is as a bloodthirsty killer ravenous in almost any possible negative connotation. Very simply, this ordinary knight from the Kingdom of Britain could only have devolved so dramatically and existentially within through the influence of years of depraved behavior, or from an external source. And, being that the man himself only had obtained the age of thirty-six years, his external source had been one that very few wise men ever go after. He had obtained wisdom relating to the field of ending human life in a just war, and decided thereupon that he would go in search of the one item that could make his journey to becoming the ultimate knight complete. None of that, however, mattered to the woman whose mostly naked form jerked viciously in fleeting, desperate hopes of relieving herself of the bonds which held her against the stony ground.

"Please, dear knight!" she begged as her wrists, parallel to each other over her head, were held violently to the ground. "I have money! Take all of my possessions! Just please do not take that which I cannot regain!" Her frightened pleading served only as a moment's irritation to the victor in the battle of momentum taking place on the stone floor of her estate. Her sole means of preventing his intrusion upon her holy ground, he defeated by placing his left and right feet, pointed, between her tightly-closed thighs and sliding them apart. "NO! PLEASE! PLEEAAAASSSEEEEEE!"

Her resounding screeches of agony echoed through the estate walls as he angrily and with much decided anger, took that which made her innocent. As scarce as his morals were—one could say they were to the point of nigh non-existence—he had one deciding factor and that was that he had to finish quickly or he would get noticed. That would mean more bodies, and although that would give him more souls, it would also mean that he would have to go through the rigors of being targeted again. As it stood, his current reputation for being a slayer of men and a godless spiller of blood served him awfully enough; he didn't need to be slowed down while in his lowest point of guard whilst raping a mortal woman, of any political standing that served her position. Thus, he affirmed himself to the only action he saw fit to perform and that was to cease in a matter of minutes and don his wardrobe and armor, and flee the building.

Knights serving their lady of the manor burst through the chamber door just in time to be a tad too late. "M'lady!" the eldest of the group resounded. "What in God's name?" Not a single one of them could comprehend the sight before them as they draped her in a noble cloth to cover her violated body, and signaled for the mendicant. How could an assailant enter the massive estate and rape her without meeting any resistance? It seemed impossible, as even during the night knights roamed the grounds patrolling every entrance and exit.

From the treetop several hundred meters from the estate, the figure stood, clutching the wicked sword in his hand. _Hn,_ a voice spoke through him, devoid of hope and compassion. _A seed of my essence will be left behind...a child of delightful wickedness. Even if my blade is destroyed and my existence wiped out, something of myself will remain always._

Just a tad over nine months later was born a child whose fate would remain intertwined with the wicked sword for the longest of times.

CHAPTER ONE – British Empire, 1591

It had been almost a hundred years since human beings hath set foot inside the cave known simply as "Death Cavern." From the simplest of means had an ordinary cave grown to be one of many sources of folklores in the glorious kingdom of England. Adventurers told stories galore of people having met their horrid end inside the cave, of blackened death itself taking root inside, of annihilation itself greeting all who set forth within, that even angels of God's domain dared not enter for fear of attack. Most of it was lies and simple codswallop, of course, but still, some evil lurked within.

Footsteps disturbed the eerie silence permeating the cavern like a thick layer of mist. Gentle rapping of feet indicated knights of honor deviating from their code in search of power that would enhance their own dramatically. "Locke!" whispered one. "Do you see it yet?" His question needn't have been stated, for the weapon stood, embedded in a stone surrounded on three sides by torches indicating its presence. Happiness demolished fear as they approached the blade. "Locke! We have done it!"

As he stepped forward to retrieve the blade from the stone, his hand no sooner touched the hilt as he found himself the victim of betrayal as his partner's longsword buried itself in his back. Locke grasped his partner's corpse under the armpits and pushed him behind him, as he took the blade himself and proudly drew it from the stone. "I've done it!" he shouted, holding it valiantly above his head. "With this sword I can have a defense against the wielder of the Soul Edge, the Azure Knight!" His purpose was very clear and he knew all he needed at this point was to begin searching for the dreaded Azure Knight, the person known as Nightmare, who once was Sigfried Schtauffen. He became so full of himself that he failed to notice the presence of a figure rising behind him, granting movement to a corpse. "What the..." Turning around, he saw something he never imagined. His dead ally had just come back to life with a dramatically different form. This time, he'd been replaced by a woman. Her hair was multi-layered and shaggy-looking. She had white eyes devoid of darkness. Her skin tone was slightly red. But the one thing he noticed, a bit too late, was that she took the blade belonging to his partner and instantly it restored to brand-new. The moment he came up with an effective reaction, he found himself impaled through the heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Warm Iron & Sharp Blood  
by Moonraker One

CHAPTER TWO – British Empire, 1603

In the midst of a mansion sat a woman contemplating the cursed sword, and its previous host, her father. Ivy Valentine was no stranger to bad times: after all, it was Cervantes de Leon who created her. She barely could tolerate the very image of his face permanently burned into her memory from their previous encounter. Information of the Soul Edge and the Soul Calibur being intertwined by the latter being plunged into the sadistic eye of the other made their way to the noblewoman and warrior. Her few moments of respite she took pleasure in thanks to her lack of a need to fight. The whip-sword she'd used to slay many a servant of the wicked blade hung in a holster over her seat.

The brief few seconds of relaxation found themselves broken by an unfamiliar expression on a familiar face. "M'lady!" shouted her manservant, bursting into the chamber uncalled. "Sorry for the intrusion, but an uninvited visitor has entered the mansion!"

She sprung to her feet promptly. "What?!" she unbuttoned her regal jacket and threw it aside, revealing her battle outfit, the familiar, purple and white risque leotard-ish body suit. "Is it a servant of the Soul Edge?!" She spun around and snatched her sword from its holster, cracking it to snap it into a tight sword structure.

"I do not know, my lady," he replied. "'Tis a woman garbed in leg armor; she displayed quite superior swordplay to our knights!"

"I shall go right now and get to the bottom of this," Ivy furiously beckoned. "And god forbid they be a servant of Soul Edge, for they shall find no mercy!"

"There's no need," a feminine voice cried. Ivy and the butler turned around, and from behind the latter came a woman. Her outfit consisted of a leather bustier, a miniskirt, and her legs and hands concealed by punisher's gauntlets and leg armor. Ivy had a feeling that the torso attire wasn't the typical leather, and the punisher's leg armor and gloves told her that she had some connections to the azure knight. "I think we can discuss this diplomatically."

The butler stepped aside as Ivy pointed her blade out front. "You burst into my mansion; I highly doubt your motives are diplomatic. Who are you?"

The woman smiled, adding some degree of creepiness to her white eyes. "My name is Serasa Lockwall," she eloquently spoke, bowing. Her multi-layered, slightly shagged hair remarkably staying in place. "And I've heard a lot about you, Ivy Valentine."

Ivy's blade did not move, but she did; she made effective use of skill and made an effective strike for her foe's abdomen. Before her blade came even close, it was blocked by a downward thrust. As she pulled her blade back, Serasa, in a remarkable display of maneuverability, flipped over her opponent and landed behind her perfectly anticipating a counter-assault by Ivy. She preempted her foe's doing so by whirling around to stop her blade a few inches from the noblewoman's neck. "Alright," Ivy replied. "You've got my attention." She was intrigued; the woman had superior skill in swordplay to her.

"Ivy Valentine, daughter of nobility here in England. Secretly an illegitimate child of Cervantes de Leon, who raped your mother." She walked in a small circle around Ivy, holding her longsword pointed downward at an angle. "Yes, Ivy, I've learned all about you." She then sat down in a chair across from the scantily-clad noblewoman, crossing her legs for effect. "Your story is a lot like mine, with one major exception. When Cervantes fathered you, his only goal was taking the innocence of a woman. The previous host, hundreds of years ago, raped my mother to specifically create an offspring of Soul Edge, and Inferno himself."

"You're the offspring of Inferno?!" Ivy slunk into her chair, in shock. "Why have you come to me?"

"Because I'm seeking to destroy the blade, and thus, kill my father. Besides, I have information you may find...useful."

"Speak," commanded Ivy.

"Very well. A man named Zasalamel, born thousands of years ago seeking to end his curse of eternal life, has resurrected the Azure Knight, Nightmare, and is using him to gather energy for the sword." She grinned. "And I know the location of your father. I know you want him eliminated so badly."

"T...tell me the location! If what you say is true then we both have a goal with the sword!" Ivy found herself doing something she very seldom did: taking advice from a complete stranger whom she doubted she could trust.

"Go to a clock tower surrounded by ancient structures; there you'll meet the man who works in secret. Near there, you'll find information you need." Suddenly, Serasa looked upwards, shifting her eyes left and right. "I must now go. May you find what you seek!" She ran to the window, and flung it open, the leaped out. Outside, and outside of Ivy's viewing range, she flip-leapt onto the roof of the mansion. There she saw a green-haired teenage girl wielding a round blade.

"So...you seek to destroy Soul Edge," snarled the angry young girl. "I suppose I'll have to kill you." All of a sudden, her violent, angry demeanor changed into ecstasy, almost to the point of giddiness. "I get to tear you limb from limb! This'll be sooo much fun!" She smiled and grasped her blade, doing some skillful whirls.

"I don't understand your changes of mood, young Tira," Serasa proclaimed, "but if you're going to fight with a round blade, so shall I!" Her eyes glowed as she held her longsword into the air, and a reddish aura overcame it, and in the space of an instant, she held a blade almost a replica of Tira's weapon, save for the fact that black veins crept across it, as they had of her previous longsword. "You see, you think Nightmare was the only demon, and you're wrong."

"You think because you've got demonic powers from the sword, you're unbeatable?! Pshaw! I bet your own mother threw you out, trash!"

Serasa chuckled at the attempt to anger her. "Child of hatred, do not make assumptions about a past long ago; my mother loved me and nurtured me, despite my demonhood. And finding out the hard way, you'll see one of my unnatural powers is mastery skill over any weapon I can see with my eyes." The moment she finished speaking she bent backwards underneath a skillful spin-swing of Tira's Aiselene Drossel.

Coming back up required the shaggy-haired demon to tilt aside a forward spin of the ringed blade. She then leapt slightly above a low, horizontal spin of the blade. In midair, she used her added momentum from the leap to whirl around, slashing diagonally upwards across Tira's chest, cutting the outfit but not drawing blood, and diagonally downward on the legs, drawing slight blood. Both were skilled shots, specifically avoiding deep blows. She landed and returned to an offensive stance. Tira grew quite angry again. "Grr...you toy with me, demon! I'll shut your mouth once and for all!" She leapt forward, spinning directly at Serasa's neck.

_You pitiful child,_ Serasa thought. It took her all of a few eye blinks to convert her ring sword into a thin rapier, then lean backwards at an angle. The ring slid past her without so much as scratching her, while she drove her rapier into the abdomen of the girl. "You've lost. I'm going to leave now." She pulled her blade from Tira's torso. "Don't worry, I aimed for the one spot I know of where I can go all the way through without hitting anything vital. You'll be fine in a few days." She began walking, turning only for a moment. "Oh, and be sure to tell the Azure Knight when you see him, for I know you will seek him out: 'You will pay for your connection to the Soul Edge and Inferno, Nightmare. For merely continuing to be its host, you shall see no mercy from the cursed sword's daughter, Serasa.' If I find out you haven't relayed this message to him by the time we meet again, Tira, you WILL be killed by my hand." As Tira desperately clamored to leave the roof (and find some way to stop bleeding), Serasa turned her rapier back into a longsword, and replaced it onto the sheath on her back.

_I will find Soul Edge_, Serasa decided long ago, _and when I do, it shall be destroyed and Inferno will pay for possessing a human to rape my mother. And then, kings shall know the name of Serasa Lockwood!_


End file.
